


Go With the Flow

by Wicker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Boyking!Sam, Crowley is snarky, Demon!Dean, Implied Incest, Injured Dean, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Murder, Season 5 AU, awful things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicker/pseuds/Wicker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean knows that if neither of the Winchester brothers accept their destiny, that the grand plan of Lucifer fighting Michael will never come to fruition. He and Sam choose to not only hold their ground against the host of heaven, but to take advantage of the unrest in hell caused by Lucifer’s return to power- and take the apocalypse to hell’s doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go With the Flow

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [winchesterbrosficchallenge](http://winchesterbrosficchallenge.tumblr.com/)  
> My challenge was a song- ["Rock of Ages"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncjcjpQzceQ) by Def Leppard
> 
> You may find me more frequently on Tumblr as [ BurningWicker.](http://burningwicker.tumblr.com/)

It was mostly through trial and error that Dean carved his path to hell. At first, there was no real way of telling what could set Sam off, but he knew it had something to do with his exposure to Azazel’s blood. It had worked its way into Sam as an infant, and changed him down to his foundation. It had taken years for Dean to admit to himself that what angered Dean about it wasn’t that Sam had been altered- it was the naked jealousy that someone had tried to pull his brother’s destiny away from his.

He was faintly astonished that the flames rose directly from his brother on the motel bed, a hot plume that licked the ceiling and filled the room with a wave of sudden, brutal heat. No gasoline necessary, this time. Sammy himself was the accelerant.

The wallpaper curled. Dean suppressed a giggle at the sight- the orange and pink flowers shuddering and blackening as flames burst from the popcorn ceiling. He backed out of the room, strangely reminded of Oscar Wilde’s last words. _“Either the wallpaper goes, or I do.”_

Sam still slept and groaned shallowly on the bed, distorted by the wave of  vibrant heat as he rode out his power and obliterated the room. Even if his brother didn’t know it, Sammy was getting quicker at this, and it took less to set him off.

Sirens howled, echoing down the road and Dean frowned just slightly, opening the Impala’s shiny black door and sitting down in the driver’s side. He had to step over a body to do it, and while he waited for his brother to join him in the car, he nudged the meat suit onto its back and pulled out the man’s wallet. He’d already harvested what he could from the body, and his stupid demon friends. The two gallons of blood in the trunk would have to do Sammy for a couple of days.

A fire engine screeched to a halt behind the Impala and firefighters immediately hopped out of the rig, unlooping hoses fast as they could.

This was it. Dean anxiously tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and muttered “Okay baby, get ready to gun it.” Dean turned the key. Her engine chortled and hummed in an idle as his grin spread wide.

Sam stumbled out the door of the motel, and a pair of yellow-suited firefighters immediately swarmed closer to him, mistaking his sleep-drunken stagger as the symptoms of smoke inhalation.

Then the men burst into flames, and Sam sobered, dodging around the both of them as they screamed, crumpling to the ground. He still seemed distraught- Dean had thought that he would be still riding the high of using that much power.

Dean’s younger brother climbed into the Impala and curled up on the seat, clutching his head. He was used to his part, and he knew Sam would be fine in a few hours. All he had to do was wait.

“It’ll be okay, Sammy. Just breathe.”

 

* * *

 

Sam clung to those words like a lifeline. Even knowing what he knew, after everything that Dean had done to him, it was still so much easier to close his eyes and try to forget the smell of burning flesh.

It wasn’t easy for Dean either, he knew. Last night, in the empty motel, he had made sure the rooms around were empty- at least that’s what he’d claimed, but Sam was tied down and the room was spinning. It had been too long since he’d had a taste.

“I can’t be around burning people. I never understood exactly why it was such a problem for me until … you know, it used to be just one more awful smell, in a long line of foul things we have to deal with on a daily basis.” Dean was straddling Sam’s legs on the bed, not even pretending that he wasn’t enjoying himself.

His grin was infectious and Sam found himself mirroring it in a dopey smile. Dean held the bottle to his lips, tipping more of the lukewarm blood into his mouth and down his willing throat.  

“You don’t need to say yes to those sons of bitches, Sam, and neither do I. We’re not gonna fight each other. Not really. You’ll be strong enough. You’ll see.”

 _What the fuck are you talking about?_   Sam wanted to say. The fleeting moment of alertness rolled under another thick drought of blood and sank back down. He could listen to Dean’s voice all day, though- and he’d choke on his words before admitting it, but he loved that he talked him through it, kept him focused.

The ropes on his wrists bit in when he jerked against them. Sam choked, coughing up a mouthful of the stuff. He turned his head to breathe and Dean’s fingers rubbed his cheek, wiping his jaw and chin clean. Sam’s head was starting to swim, things were becoming more clear, their edges standing out and wavering in his sight. Sam groaned.

Dean kept talking, his syllables punctuated by Sam’s pounding heartbeat. “You said no to Lucifer, I said no to Michael, and the best part, the very best part, Sammy, is that you’re gonna be strong enough to do take them out on your own. Just tell me what you see next, just tell me everything.”

Sam looked at him last before his eyes rolled up in his head. Dean could burn into the backs of his retinas and Sam wouldn’t tire of watching him, but he was drowning in power, incapacitated by the dizzying sensation of  him where to go next. He passed out with Dean still on top of him, holding him still to keep him from thrashing himself apart.

 

* * *

 

In the car, barrelling north towards Rapid City, South Dakota, Sam told Dean what he saw this time.

“I have to get to Devil’s Tower, D.  It’s big, it’s the big one.”

“The one from _Close Encounters,_ Sam? You’re serious?”

Sam’s laughter sounded eerie, strangled. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair and groaned until Dean covered his shoulder with his hand.

“It’s okay, little brother, I got you.”

“I’m.. I’m not little anymore. But my head hurts and I’ll need... More of my stuff.”

“It’s fine, Sam, you can say it. Blood. It doesn’t bother me.”

Sam whimpered, the usual pain showing behind his eyes. “I’m gonna need so much, I just... please. I’ll burn it all down if you let me.”

“Yeah, I got it. Gallons of it.” Dean nodded, hiding his grin. Aside from the smell of burning skin and hair, he really didn’t mind things bursting into flames. “What did you see, Sammy?”

It was a quarter mile and less than ten seconds before Sam responded. “I think I can do it, Dean. I saw him in front of me, and I saw him crumble.”

Dean licked his lips and reached across the seat to grasp Sam’s shoulder, instantly feeling himself settle when he squeezed his brother. “I’ll be right with you.”

“That’s just it, Dean. I don’t think you’re there when it happens.” Sam gulped.

Dean clenched his jaw. “I’ll be with you as long as I can. I won’t let anything pull me away.”

Sam slumped down in the seat but slapped his hand over Dean’s fingers, clinging to him and closing his eyes.  He was trying to put what he’d seen into some semblance of order, and it was turning to smoke, as soon as he tried to grasp it.

An hour later, when Dean offered him a flask of blood, he started to sip it as though it was completely normal. His stomach boiled but it settled after he took a few more swallows.

 

* * *

 

Dean was grateful for the cover of darkness as they rolled into the park, circling the massive black edifice, settling at the base as close as the access road would allow. The Impala’s lights fell across a standing figure, and Dean idled, calculating before he cut the engine.

Crowley held out his hands, palms up. He was smiling, too, which was only a little unsettling. Dean tapped Sam’s shoulder his brother woke up beside him, rubbing his temples as he stretched and groaned. He sat up startled as soon as his eyes fell on Crowley, but his questions died when he saw Ruby’s knife in Dean’s hand.

They exited the car in unison and walked, almost in step with one another.

“Boys,” the demon chuckled. “So kind of you to attend this little soiree.”  

“Knew we were coming, Crowley?” Sam spoke stiffly. He still despised Crowley, despite how the demon mimicked friendship.

Crowley vaguely gestured to the top of the tower, and shrugged. “Heard it was the time.”

Dean patted Sam on the shoulder. “Title fight. Time to go for broke, Sammy.”

The cords in Sam’s jaw jumped as he glanced up the edifice, and he nodded, walking back to the trunk of the car to retrieve more of his blood. If he didn’t drink too much too deeply,  maybe he’d stay in control.

Then again, if he had control, he might not reach for all the power he had within his grasp. Sam took a great gulp and fought for a moment to not spit it back up on the fender of the Impala.

When his head swam and his whole body felt hot, he staggered back towards Dean. It irked him that he stood near Crowley, and it seemed as natural as breathing to give the demon a little push that tumbled him a dozen yards away from his brother.

He rolled about in his woolen coat and stood back upright with a grunt. Dean put his hand up like he would touch Sam’s shoulder, seemed to reconsider, and dropped it back down.  

Crowley made a show of dusting off. “Seems as though you’re ready.” He snapped his fingers and the Winchesters were both instantly transported to the top of the rocky tower.

The lurch stunned Dean, but only served to infuriate Sam. The ground under his feet began to scorch. He instinctively reached to keep his brother on his feet, and it wasn’t until he held him by the shoulders that he realized he was hot enough to nearly light the very air on fire. And yet Dean remained unharmed. His eyes widened as he looked up at Sam, comprehending.

Sam smiled softly as he finally realized that the fire wouldn’t hurt his brother, and the possibility of accidentally destroying his only family would never come to pass.

Of course, he came to the top of Devil’s Tower as a challenger. Now that he was close, he realized that he had been able to feel Lucifer’s presence from miles away, and had just ignored it as another symptom of his blood-borne visions. The sharp and brittle feeling that lurked under his skin stood in a human body on the far side of the rock, hands clasped, waiting.

The devil allowed them a moment before he stepped forward and raised his eyes to look at the both of them. “Sam, you’ve kept me waiting,” he murmured, still somehow loud enough to echo off the flat surface of rock. “You might think that after all the aeons of waiting, I would have become more patient. I suppose it’s not in my nature.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but resolutely stepped between Lucifer and Dean, jaw clenched and shoulders squared. “Something as old as you shouldn’t fear time,” he said, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Perhaps it’s a flaw in my creation. But you, Sam. You fear something far less abstract. But perhaps just as inevitable.” Lucifer raised an arm, and the ripple of power tore at them both, and pushed Dean from behind Sam to send him tumbling over the precipice.

Sam’s enraged howl tore out of his throat; he reached out with his power for his brother without really understanding what he was doing, driven by instinct and blind panic. The tendril snapped around empty air, and then Lucifer had his hands around Sam’s neck, for once leveraging his power with his hands.

“Say yes, Sam.”  The devil’s breath smelled like his vessel was burning from the inside out. “I can bring him back to you if you say yes.”

Sam’s eyes burned and he choked out a wordless refusal. Dean’s face as he vanished over the cliff was burned into his eyelids, cutting deep down into a bottomless well of rage. He threw Lucifer off and tore the sky open with fire.

 

* * *

 

Crowley watched Dean fall to earth. “That didn’t take long.” He mumbled to himself as he walked over to where he lay across a broken tree, body bent at odd angles and bleeding on the stones.

The demon sighed and pulled the dead man by his legs over to the Impala. He supposed he should count himself fortunate that Dean didn’t land on top of the car, but he wished he’d fallen a little closer. Thunder and red light bellowed overhead. He didn’t have long.

Dean was laid haphazardly by the passenger side of the car while the demon circled the impala once, pouring holy oil on the gravel and lighting it with a flick of his finger.

Now that protection was assured, he sat down to wait, absently nudging Dean’s body with his foot. The fire bursting from the sky started to stream down around the circle, catching the trees like torches until the air was thick with sparks and smoke. From high on Devil’s Tower, screaming could be heard. Crowley wasn’t sure if the cries were from Sam or his would-be master.

Contemplating, he looked down at Dean. “I thought Alistair’s work would have been of higher quality. Even with raw material such as you. You’re a splinter in my eye, Dean. Such a bother we took to bring you down to our level, when you were in hell. And you squander our gifts by laying there in the dirt. While your brother does all the heavy lifting of taking the throne.”

A crack echoed overhead as the monolith shifted and split. The demon grinned and turned Dean over with his heel. “There. It’s done. Now open your damn eyes and greet your king.”

Dean’s eyes snapped open, perfect blackness reflecting the red-orange sky. He coughed and spat up the blood that had collected in his throat and sat up on the ground.

Sam stepped out of the fire and into the ring with the two demons and the impala, and fell down to his knees. “Dean,” he breathed, face streaked with blood.

Of course his brother scrambled to his side to hold him up. Crowley reeked of satisfaction as he crossed his arms, watching the brothers embrace. “The king is dead. Long live the king,” smirked Crowley, just loud enough for them to hear.

Dean’s eyes still hadn’t gone back to their human color. “You won, Sammy. You did it. Killed Lucifer.”

Sam was so glad Dean was with him that he didn’t object to the change in him. _If_ he truly had changed, or if the Demon had been his brother since he broke in hell; it no longer mattered. A small appreciative nod against his brother’s neck was all the celebrating that Sam would do, tonight. He bit down and filled his mouth with Dean’s blood. It tasted of perfection and agony, and he gulped it down.


End file.
